Crafty Crookshanks
by Green Soul
Summary: Crookshanks might be part cat, but he is definitely perceptive. Can a cat get Ron and Hermione together? Pretty please review :D


Crafty Crookshanks

By Green Soul

Summary: Crookshanks might be part cat, but he is definitely perceptive. Can a cat get Ron and Hermione together?

Disclaimer: Sadly… I don't own any of the characters. Not even Crookshanks. It's very depressing.

PLEASE REVIEW!!! It makes me really happy when people comment on my stories. :D

******************

Crookshanks lazily flipped his tail from side to side, basking in the warmth of the sunlight streaming in from the dormitory window. Things were getting quite tense, he thought, as he watched Parvati and Lavender giggle over some new Weekly Witch magazine.

As a cat, Crookshanks was good at picking up those little vibes. They made his fur stand on end, and sometimes even made his whiskers tickle. Right now Hermione was stretched across her bed, writing an essay. This was quite normal, but Crookshanks' whiskers never lied. Hermione was upset. Even someone without those magical cat powers could have seen what was going on, if they looked closely enough. Every so often Hermione glared at her paper, or muttered something under her breath that sounded quite like an insult. Sometimes she jabbed her quill in her ink bottle so hard that the pen struck bottom and made a pinging noise.

Crookshanks hated seeing his friend in this state. Apart from her being his friend and all, his tickling whiskers were preventing him from getting a good catnap. And he hated it when he was deprived of his naps. He knew he would have to make her happy again before he'd be able to sleep soundly. If only he knew what was going on…

Quite stealthily, using his cat prowess to his advantage, he snuck over to sit just behind Hermione, where he could see what she was writing.

"Hey, Crookshanks," she mumbled.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't _that _sneaky. But still. It wasn't as if she knew he could read.

_Uses for Acromantula Venom_, read the title of her essay.

_Acromantula Venom, or more scientifically known as Loxosceles Veneno, is a rare and highly valued substance that can only be gathered from a freshly dead Acromantula. If one waits too long before collecting the venom, it will dry out; otherwise collecting from a live Acromantula would be severely risky at best. None but the best wizards can face down an Acromantula and come out alive. Even though Ron and Harry did. And actually, I think Ron should be given more credit since one of his only fears is spiders. I mean, Ron faced his worst fear. He was so brave. But no, he can't even bring himself to say anything to me. I'm pretty sure he likes me. But he's said nothing. NOTHING. And obviously I'm not going to stoop so low as to say it myself. HE has to say it. But he won't. Because he's such a bloody coward. Or maybe he doesn't like me at all. Maybe I'm just deluding myself. Maybe when he looks at me and it seems like he's looking into my soul he's really just thinking about some other girl, a PRETTY girl, like Fleur. Life is SO not fair. WHY can't I be as pretty as Fleur? Ron's NEVER going to think of me in that way. Why would he? But it's not fair!! I like him more than any other girl. I love him. But no. I have to live with him every single day even though he probably hasn't even had one tiny little thought about…_

Hermione seemed to shake herself back into reality.

"Great," she said, "now I have to start all over again."

Angrily she tore the parchment into little confetti bits and tossed them in the trash.

Aha, thought Crookshanks. Ron.

Aaah, humans.

********************

The dormitory was dark, and although Crookshanks could hear a couple snores here and there he suspected that the boy's dormitory was much louder. And that was where he was going next.

Curse my non-opposable thumbs, he thought, as he silently stole a pillow from Lavender's bed. He dragged it in his teeth, leaving it next to the trash can. Then he carefully tilted the trashcan over, so that it landed on the pillow. With a tiny rattle, it fell. Crookshanks' ears were pricked. Good. No one had woken up. He began to quietly sort through the trash. Apple core. Mmmm. I'll give it a few licks. Broken pink feathery scrunchie (must be Lavender's). A homework with a big red "A" on it…

There they are. Little confetti bits. Wonderful.

Crookshanks gathered them in his mouth, trying not to get them too wet. He spit out a pepper-flavored Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean. He sighed in a cat way. This was _not _going to be fun.

******************

Just as he had predicted, the boy's dormitory was full of startlingly loud snores. At least he wouldn't have to worry about being quiet, since he could probably knock over fifty trash cans and still be quieter than Seamus' snores.

Ugh, and the smell. It smelled like socks, and old rotting food. How happy he was that Hermione was a girl. Why she would be so interested in one of these smelly creatures was beyond him. But nevertheless, Crookshanks could not ignore the task at hand. And that was: (ahem) TO GET RON TO ADMIT HIS FEELINGS TO HERMIONE, FOR GOD'S SAKE!!

Humans could be so uselessly complicated.

He emptied his mouthful of paper onto the floor. Right, time for a puzzle.

Thank goodness for his eyes that could see in the dark.

He used a claw at a time to rearrange the papers, since his paws were too big.

It was almost dawn when he was finally finished. Exhausted, he retreated under Harry's bed to admire his work. There, on the boy's dormitory floor, was Hermione's off topic essay.

Until.

Dean sprang off his bed.

"It's Saturday!" he yelled, getting dressed in three seconds flat. Those two words alone awoke everyone in the dormitory.

"Yes!" said Harry, and after getting dressed grabbed his broom. The bristly side brushed the floor as he ran towards the door. Bits of paper flew everywhere.

Crookshanks nearly cried. All that work. All those hours of hard work gone in seconds. And his whiskers were still tingling.

He sulked under the bed while the dormitory quickly became empty.

Well. This was not over. I don't give up that easily, thought Crookshanks.

He pawed open one of Ron's drawers.

Hmmm, T-shirts. Wait, was something white poking out from under one of his orange shirts? Hopefully Crookshanks dug it out. It was a letter. And it was hidden in his drawer. That had to be a good sign.

Using his claws as a paper knife, he slit the envelope and carried the letter up onto Ron's bed. He sprawled out and spread the letter in front of him. Time for some Saturday morning reading.

_Dear Fleur,_

The letter began.

_I know you'll never get this letter, since I am never not EVER going to give it to you. I really wish I could go up to you and tell you how I feel. But you're probably just going to laugh at me if I do. You're so beautiful. Your hair is like a golden waterfall, and I love how it sways from side to side as you walk. And your eyes are so clear and blue, like the water on Paradise Beach…_

Crookshanks had read enough. Letting out a disgruntled little meow, he trotted off with the envelope in his mouth and flushed it down the boy's toilet.

Fleur is _really_ never going to get that envelope, he thought.

This was going to be harder than he expected.

He had met Fleur. Sure, she did have some sort of delicate feminine human thing going on, but how anyone could prefer her to Hermione he had no idea. Fleur smelled like perfume. But the bad kind. The kind that made his nostrils sting and his eyes water. The kind that sent him coughing and running. And all that makeup. Ugh. He thought she probably spent half the day just caking it on.

Crookshanks peeked in the drawer again. That orange shirt. It matched his fur perfectly.

************************

"Hermione, what the bloody hell is your cat doing wearing my shirt?" asked Ron in complete shock. For Crookshanks had just strolled into the common room proudly donning a new shirt.

Hermione burst into a fit of giggles. "You've got to admit," she said, "he looks good in it. Maybe even better than you," she said teasingly.

"Oh, yeah? Well I think he just looks like a bloody cat who likes to get himself into ridiculous outfits."

"Are you calling your clothes ridiculous, then Ron? And do you _have _to swear so much?"

"Course I do, Mione," he answered. "And I'm sorry, but I'm perfectly entitled to call a cat wearing clothes ridiculous."

Hermione hit him playfully. "Hey," she said, "I'll have you remember that he is _my_ cat and I don't want anyone making fun of him."

Wait a sec, thought Crookshanks. Was he missing something here? Because he was fairly certain that this activity that humans engaged in, where they talked teasingly and hitting each other without malicious intent, was called flirting. And he was also pretty sure that if two people flirted it meant that they were at least a little bit interested in each other.

And well, he already knew how Hermione felt.

Hmmm. Perhaps this wouldn't actually be _so_ difficult.

Still wearing Ron's shirt, Crookshanks made his way back to the dormitories. Time for Plan B.

*********************

Stealing was quite easy. Perhaps in another life Crookshanks would have made a good thief.

Although he didn't particularly approve of what he was stealing. He tried to hold his breath as he snuck a bottle of perfume out of Parvati's bag. If this was what Ron liked, well then…

With a great deal of effort Crookshanks dragged the bottle over to Hermione's bed and sprayed a couple of nose-aggravating droplets at Hermione.

He sneezed and then scurried away from the smell as fast as possible. He hoped this would do the trick. Although why Ron would be attracted to this smell was quite out of his comprehension.

**************

"Checkmate," said Ron triumphantly.

"Oh, not again," groaned Hermione. "I swear Ron, I _will_ win one of these days."

Ron chucked. "If it makes you feel better to think that. But I _never_ lose at chess."

Hermione leaned over the chess board to collect her pieces.

Ron wrinkled his nose.

"You smell… different. Are you wearing perfume or something?"

"Huh? Umm.. no."

"Oh…" Ron said doubtfully. "Well, I like it better how you normally smell. Like kiwi and books."

The tips of his ears turned red.

"Oh…" said Hermione. She sniffed her hair. "Weird. I do smell like perfume."

She looked at her hands. Crookshanks saw a small smile form on her lips.

Huh, thought Crookshanks. He likes her normal smell. At least he's not a complete idiot.

On to Plan C.

**************

What else… what else did Fleur have that Hermione didn't? Because Hermione was smart and considerate, and sure, sometimes bossy, but only because she cared, while Fleur was shallow and vapid and constantly sniffing and ignoring those who weren't "good enough" for her.

What else…

Well, she did have that hair. And those blue eyes… Things not too easily given to Hermione.

Well… perhaps Ron didn't like her bushy hair. This he might be capable of changing.

Hermione was once again doing homework in the dormitory, hiding from the distractions of the common room. Lavender was there too, painting her nails a hideously bright pink. She was just the person to do the job.

Crookshanks meowed and jumped onto Lavender's bed.

"Watch it Crookshanks," she said, "I don't want to get paint on my fingers."

He pawed around inside her bag until he found what he was looking for.

There it was. A hair straightening potion. All you had to do, it said on the label, was rub onto the hair while saying an incantation.

Meowing again, he nudged the bottle towards Lavender, then looked at Hermione.

"What is it Crookshanks?" said Lavender absentmindedly.

He rubbed his head up against her side and continued to paw the bottle.

"What," said Lavender, "Straight Hair Potion? What about it?"

He trotted over to Hermione, who was now flipping through a reference book and ignoring both of them.

"You want me to straighten Hermione's hair?" asked Lavender, intrigued.

"What??" said Hermione, finally paying attention as she heard her name.

"Guess what Crookshanks just told me," said Lavender, giggling.

"What…" said Hermione suspiciously.

"Crookshanks wants me to straighten your hair!" Lavender squealed, forgetting all about her nails.

"No. Absolutely not," said Hermione, shutting her book and getting ready to make a break for it.

"Oh, come _on_, Hermione," Lavender said. "You _never_ do anything with your hair. It has such _potential_."

"Nope," said Hermione, going back to her essay.

"Pleeeaaase?"

Hermione ignored her.

"Pleeeaaaaaase?"

"Oh, fine then," said Hermione.

Yes! Thought Crookshanks.

*********************

"Wow, Mione," said Ron as Hermione came down the dormitory steps. "What happened to your hair?"  
"Oh, this?" she said, fingering her newly straight and glossy hair. "Lavender wouldn't shut up until I let her do it. Apparently 'Crookshanks told her to'," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Your cat is very strange, Hermione," said Ron. He stared at her hair. There was a slight frown on his face.

"Is something the matter, Ron?" she said, noticing his expression.

"It's just… you're not going to start wearing your hair like that every day, are you?"

"No, of course not. Although, I don't know, maybe it looks better like this. Do you think I should?"

"No! I mean… it's all right, like that… but it looks better wavy. You know… like it usually is."

"Really?"

"Erm, yeah, I suppose."

"Thanks," she whispered, blushing.

She sat down, facing away from him, and started to schedule her list of activities for the day.

Crookshanks was pleased to see that Ron was looking at Hermione intently. Kind of like he was reevaluating his friend.

*************

When Crookshanks explored Ron's drawers again, he was happy to see another hidden note.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I feel so stupid right now. All this time I thought I liked Fleur, but recently I realized that I'm in love with you. I guess I figured it out when you started changing things about yourself, like the perfume and your hair. I couldn't stand it. It was like my Hermione was turning into someone else. I realized that I didn't like it when you changed, because I love you just the way you are, the way you are without even trying. I can't believe I fooled myself into liking Fleur. I guess it was just because I'm _supposed_ to like her, you know? The classic beauty. But you… you are so much more than that. You're beautiful and you don't even realize it, and you're so smart and deep and caring. It took me way too long to realize it. And even though you probably wouldn't laugh at me if I told you how I felt, I doubt you'd like me back. Because I can hardly believe that I could ever be good enough for you._

_Love,_

_Ron_

Crookshanks' tail twitched. Well well well. Perhaps Mr. Ronald wasn't as bad as he had previously thought.

And this letter would do nicely to get Hermione happy again. And as an extra bonus it wasn't torn up into tiny little pieces.

********************

"Meow."

"Hey Crookshanks, what have you got there?" asked Hermione as she looked up from her knitting in the common room.

He dropped the letter into her lap.

"What's this?" Curious, Hermione opened it. Her brow furrowed as she began to read.

"Dear Hermione…" she whispered.

When she was finished she was in shock. She stared at Crookshanks. "Where did you get this?"

"Meow."

"Hermione? What's that?"

"Ron! It's um… err…"

Ron gasped in recognition.

"Give me that! That was with my stuff!! How did you get it? How much did you read?"

His ears were turning bright red.

"Umm.. I kind of read all of it. Cr-Crookshanks brought it to me. I didn't know what it was, I swear."

He grabbed it out of her hands, only to confirm his fears.

"I can't believe your cat did this," he yelled, his face turning the same shade as his ears.

"Ron…"

"That bloody cat, he's always messing with my life, first with Scabbers, then he stole my bloody t-shirt…"

"Ron!"

"What? What have you got to say? That you're disgusted from what you read and you never want to speak to me again?"

"No, Ron, I…. I like… I love you too."

"What?" Ron became still.

"I love you," said Hermione, blushing.

"Oh," said Ron quietly.

She stood up and walked to him. He looked like he half wanted to run away.

"And… um…" she said, but never finished her sentence. Because Ron grabbed her and kissed her, pressing his mouth to hers. She kissed him back deeply, relishing the feel of his lips against her, and the way his fingers caressed her hair. Suddenly they were gone.

"Wait a minute," said Ron, creasing his eyebrows. "Didn't you say Crookshanks made Lavender straighten your hair?"

"Erm… yes."

"He set this whole thing up! That bloody cat!"

"_Must_ you swear all the time?"

He grinned and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into another kiss. He moaned as Hermione trailed her fingers on his hard stomach. She kissed him back, their hot mouths pressed together in a fever. He slowly backed her into the wall his hands caging her in, but Hermione trusted him completely. She sighed, and pressed herself against him.

"Meow."

Crookshanks' whiskers had finally stopped tickling.

Ron turned around to look at the source of the noise.  
"That bloody cat," he said, grinning at Hermione. "Maybe he's not so bad after all."


End file.
